


honey on my fingers

by lvllns



Series: feathers and stone [7]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Other, good n softe, no explicit sex but it's heavily implied, praise and body worship behind the curtain y'all, sometimes you see a post and get inspired, this is deep relationship mason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lvllns/pseuds/lvllns
Summary: “Mêl ar fy mysedd,” they mumble against his skin.He blinks. Tries to sort the words and gets as far as Welsh before he gives up. Everything is fire bright at the moment. Red and orange licking at the edges of his vision. His hand falls to cup their cheek and they lean into the touch with a soft hum.“What’s that mean?” His voice is rougher than he expected.
Relationships: Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), NB Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Series: feathers and stone [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756300
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	honey on my fingers

**Author's Note:**

> saw a tumblr post. remembered that sparrow is in fact welsh. this happened lmao.

Mason _moans_.

Deep, rough, from the center of his chest. It pours out of him like wine. Spilling across his chest to drip onto the sheets below. His fingers curl. Wind and card through Sparrow’s hair and they pull away to press a kiss to the inside of his thigh.

“ _Mêl ar fy mysedd_ ,” they mumble against his skin.

He blinks. Tries to sort the words and gets as far as Welsh before he gives up. Everything is fire bright at the moment. Red and orange licking at the edges of his vision. His hand falls to cup their cheek and they lean into the touch with a soft hum.

“What’s that mean?” His voice is rougher than he expected.

He clears his throat.

Sparrow drops another kiss to his body, on his hip this time, before they prop their chin on his stomach. “Honey on my fingers.” They turn to nip at his wrist. “Welsh version of music to my ears.”

Heat races down his spine and Mason shivers. It’s foolish of him to hope Sparrow doesn’t notice the way his body reacts to their voice. Their touch. He can’t think of one thing over the years that they haven’t noticed. Ava calls them eagle-eyed, quick to spot the tiniest of things, and Mason enjoys the way they’re able to pick out a speck of blood or a slight shift in the paint on a wall. It’s all very impressive until that attention is focused squarely on him.

Then he feels rather like every single inch of him is on display.

Not just his skin, but the secrets he’s buried into the cracks between his ribs. Thoughts he placed carefully among the bones of his wrists. Things he expected to keep to himself until he could sort out whatever was rattling around his head, and then they’d fuck off.

Jokes on him, because once it was all laid out before him and the lights turned the fuck on, it was all he could do to not hand everything over to Sparrow immediately.

They’re still looking at him, one side of their mouth pulled up in a close-lipped smile. Their thumb is drawing sweeping circles over the skin of his thigh. He is so utterly distracted by them. By the way they sound when they’re excited, words rushing from their mouth a mile a minute. By the way they smell, soft hints of vanilla and well-worn leather. By the way their heart sounds, steady beats that lull him to sleep more easily than he ever thought possible. Noises and scents that steady him, and it’s still so strange to find comfort in sensations that usually overwhelm.

“Still with me?” Their breath is warm as it washes over his bare stomach.

He rubs a hand over his face and nods. “Yeah.” Mason curls a hand around the back of their neck and pulls gently. Guides them up his body until they’re laying on top of him, noses bumping.

Sparrow kisses him. Slow and sweet, the vague memory of the taste of sugar lingering on his lips when they pull away to kiss his cheek. “ _Cuore mio_ ,” they murmur against his temple. “My heart.”

Their touch drifts over his side as they kiss his throat. They’re so gentle with him. Like even after all this time he’s going to splinter in their hands. He wants to tell them it’s different now. He’s stronger. More in tune with his emotions now that he knows what to look for. It’s a moot point though, with them draping him in affection like a warm blanket.

A thumbnail pokes against his bicep and he blinks.

“I do love your arms,” they speak into his jaw. “Strong enough to protect, gentle enough to soothe.”

A little piece of...something, wiggles loose around his heart. “Songbird—”

They quiet him with another kiss. Deeper this time. A searching kiss that has him groaning. Clutching at their waist and holding them tight.

“Are you okay with this?”

“With what? You talking nonsense about how pretty I am?”

They click their tongue. “Nonsense, please.” A tap to his nose. He scoffs. “I only speak the truth. You know I can’t lie to save my life.” Fingers lace with his. “Seriously, is this fine?”

Mason swallows and nods, not trusting himself to speak. Instead, he gently tucks a lock of hair behind their ear.

Their mouth moves back to his jaw. Slips down his neck to settle at the base. “ _Luce dei miei occhi_.” Sparrow props themself up on an elbow and grins. His head is spinning. “Light of my eyes.” They sit up. Straddle his waist and splay their hands across his chest. “Do you know how difficult it is to pay attention when you walk around without a shirt on?”

A soft laugh escapes him, jostling Sparrow a little. He catches their hip and holds them steady. “I might have an idea, given how often I find you staring at me.”

They roll their eyes, a fond smile on their face. “Fair.” Their fingers tap across his collarbones. Dance down to his sternum. He realizes, quite suddenly, that they’re tracing his freckles again. “It’s your freckles.” Their head cocks to the side. “Don’t get me wrong, the muscles are nice.” They emphasize the words with a gentle squeeze of his pecs. Mason snorts. “But...I always want so badly to touch your freckles.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he says. He finds their shoulder. Runs the pads of his fingers over the scattered bursts of pigment that dust their skin.

Sparrow hums. “Your nose too.” Delicately, they run their touch from between his eyebrows to the tip of his nose. “It’s handsome. Suits you.” They cup his face. Smooth their thumb over his jaw. “Jawline sharp enough to cut marble.”

Mason catches the moment their eyes go bright. Delighted with whatever has occurred to them. Their hands find the side of his face, and they squish his cheeks together until his mouth is pursed.

He rolls his eyes as his head falls back, slipping from their grasp, a groan escaping him even as a grin splits his face.

They’re giggling where they sit, perched on his waist. Sparrow leans down to touch their foreheads together. “Can’t imagine why you’ve put up with me all these years.”

Mason trails a finger up and down their spine as he says, “There’s no putting up with anything.”

The admission is quiet. A secret spoken between them, poorly kept as it is. He just can’t let that go. Can’t stand to think that they believe he’s putting up with them. And for what? Sex?

No. No, he’s spent too long embracing what he feels to even consider letting their statement go unchallenged.

For their part, they blush. Red sweeping across their cheeks to their ears. Dripping down their neck to coat their chest. Paint on a canvas. Smears of color spreading out like a wildfire.

“I know,” they whisper, and those two words chase the tension from his body.

Sometimes he worries that he doesn’t do enough. Tell them enough. He’s still stumbling around this like a newborn fawn trying to cross a frozen lake. But the way they light up when he holds them or brings them a book he swiped from Nat’s library...he thinks he’s doing okay. It is nice, however, to have it confirmed.

They slither down his body, peppering kisses over his stomach as they go. Teeth scrape over his hip bones, the bite of them soothed quickly by their tongue. Sparrow curls their fingers around his thighs and exhales. Slow and even. It burns the inside of his leg and the muscles twitch. He had forgotten what they were doing before Sparrow decided this was more important, but his body reacts to them as it always does.

Immediately.

Honestly.

“You have ridiculously nice legs.” Their touch falls to his knee before moving to settle up by his hip. They quirk a brow as their fingers curl, the tips resting on the top of his ass. “I really don’t think I need to tell you what I think about your butt.”

“Need to, no. Still think you should.” He smiles, wide enough to flash his fangs.

“It’s a good butt, sunshine. Seen it plenty, mostly upside down while you’re carrying me around.” Sparrow moves to kneel between his spread legs, their hair hanging loose around their shoulders. “You’ve carried me out of some scary situations.” Their brows furrow. A little knot forms between them and he reaches up to smooth it away. Gently, he sweeps some of their hair back out of their face. “I’m terribly fond of you.”

His heart thumps painfully in his chest. Knocking against his ribs and begging to be let free. If he could give it to them, he would. On a silver fucking platter.

There are lips against the center of his chest, breaking him from his thoughts. Sparrow kisses him, the barest brush of their mouth. “ _Philtatos_ ,” they whisper against his skin, “most beloved.”

Some kind of broken sound claws its way out of his throat. Mason flips them over. Hovers above them for a moment before he presses them into the bed, and slots his mouth over theirs. They’re smiling, he can feel it, but it’s a distant realization.

He feels like he’s drowning.

No, floating. He’s light, too light for the heaviness of water.

It’s a whole lot of pretty words spoken in a pretty accent by a pretty person but he knows, he knows Sparrow better than he knows himself sometimes.

They’re honest to a fault.

Especially with him.

Mason kisses them until they push on his shoulder. Breaking away to gasp for air as he moves to lick at their throat. He doesn’t know what to do with the love surrounding his heart so he gives it to them the way he knows best. By touching. He maps their body with his hands. Colors every inch of them gold in the low light of their bedroom. So long he’s seen his hands as weapons, useful things to break anyone who threatens him or those who have his loyalty. But when Sparrow is underneath him, body lifting off the bed to fit into the curve of his palms, he finds himself thinking that maybe there’s some good beneath the long dried blood on his skin.

It feels as though an age has passed when he eventually falls onto his back with a soft thump, skin slick with sweat. His eyes are shut, and he takes deep breaths through his nose. Sparrow’s heart starts to settle, to come down from the high of a moment ago, and their lithe fingers find his. Tangling together. Vines on a wall. They squeeze his hand.

They roll onto their side, wiggling close enough for their knees to push against his thighs. Light kisses pepper over his ribs until they exhale and press their nose into his side.

“ _Rwy'n dy garu di_ ,” Sparrow mumbles. “I love you.”

He buries his face in their hair, eyes shut tight, and wraps his arm around their shoulders to hold them close.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> in order sparrow speaks: welsh, italian, italian, greek, and then welsh again. (they're fluent in......6 languages........)
> 
> (i, unfortunately, am only like half-fluent in welsh, less so in italian, so uh, please excuse any wonky translations)
> 
> i'm on [tumblr](https://lvllns.tumblr.com) if y'all wanna come talk abt grumpy vampires uwu


End file.
